you said, love. we always come back to that word.
let’s go back to the way we were
before expectations reared their ugly heads.
let’s be honest with each other and
realize no matter how many iterations of
that dream I have where I chop off your head
that you’re the only one who knows my axes
like the caterwauling of songbirds at night.
sometimes what is right is not always true,
and vice versa,
and on second thought honesty is a large and unwieldy thing
to expect from two sides of the same coin,
unaware that the half they are missing is forever out of sight
when we are still hesitant to acknowledge each other
in new and different ways
but if I’m being honest,
it always comes back to the same thing.
how much love resides in a homegrown pomegranate,
in the bitter seeds of its scarred flesh?
what does it contain between its many progeny?
what does it know of the ones we love?
before expectations reared their ugly heads.
let’s be honest with each other and
realize no matter how many iterations of
that dream I have where I chop off your head
that you’re the only one who knows my axes
like the caterwauling of songbirds at night.
sometimes what is right is not always true,
and vice versa,
and on second thought honesty is a large and unwieldy thing
to expect from two sides of the same coin,
unaware that the half they are missing is forever out of sight
when we are still hesitant to acknowledge each other
in new and different ways
but if I’m being honest,
it always comes back to the same thing.
how much love resides in a homegrown pomegranate,
in the bitter seeds of its scarred flesh?
what does it contain between its many progeny?
what does it know of the ones we love?
Phoebe Chu (she/her/hers) hails from Northern California, where she spends any and all free time staring at the birds outside her window, stacking paper cranes, and expanding her collection of teeth. Her work is forthcoming in Troublemaker Firestarter’s third volume, and you can find her on Twitter @phoeebc.
Beaver Magazine 